


Day 6: Elf on a Train

by MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)



Series: 12 Days of Spideypool Christmas [6]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Drunk Wade Wilson, M/M, Peter as a Christmas Elf, Subways, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 18:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17229302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester
Summary: Peter is just trying to get home after a miserable shift at Santa's Village. He's not trying to get hit on by a drunk guy who thinks he knows Santa. Unfortunately, the universe has a different plan for him.





	Day 6: Elf on a Train

**Author's Note:**

> I legit didn't think I'd manage to get halfway through this series. It's a Christmas miracle, y'all. The next one will have smut, I promise.

 

DARTH NED: ** **Wanna skip patrol tonight and binge Nailed It! Instead?****

Peter slumped against the pole he was leaning against and pressed his forehead to the cold metal. Yes, of course he wanted to skip patrol and mold himself to Ned’s couch until he became one with the cushions. After the day full of screaming children and horrible parents he’d just had to deal with, if it was possible for him to just __become__ the couch, he would try it. But New York City needed protecting, and it was his responsibility to do that.

He had just started typing his reply when a slurred voice interrupted him. “Damn, when did they start making Christmas elves so hot? You’re ass is on fire in those tights.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to find a hulking man staggering towards him in a dark hoodie and jeans. His hood was pulled up to hide his face, but Peter’s spider sense wasn’t going off, so he wasn’t concerned that he was about to be mugged. Groped by a drunk guy, probably, but this was the subway. He knew what he signed up for. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in leaving me alone,” he said, tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket.

The guy didn’t appear to hear him as he grabbed onto the overhead bar nearest Peter and made a show of looking behind Peter at his ass, covered in bright green and red leggings with gold piping down the seems. Peter hated them, but they were part of the uniform at Santa’s Village—Santa’s Village that paid $3 an hour more than the Santa’s Hut with far less embarrassing costumes where he’d worked last December. They were also fleece-lined and twice as warm as his suit, so there was that. “Are all the elves as hot as you, or is this just my lucky day?” the man asked, leaning into Peter’s personal space. He wreaked of whiskey and Mexican food.

“It’s definitely not __my__ lucky day.”

“Do you know Santa? I mean, I know you’re his helper, but I wrote him a letter, and if someone as gorgeous as you could deliver it, maybe he’d read it.” To Peter’s surprise, the man pulled out a crumpled-looking red envelope covered in Christmas-themed Pusheen cat stickers and addressed To: Santa in glittery gel pen.

“I don’t know Santa, dude. I’m just trying to pay my rent.”

He slumped forward, still hanging from the bar, his head nearly pressed to Peter’s chest. “You really don’t know him?”

Peter was starting to think maybe there was more wrong with this guy than just booze. “I uh… how drunk are you, dude?”

The guy sighed, and the sway of the car made him bump his head into Peter’s chest. He kept it there when the car tilted back again. “Not as drunk as I want to be. Fucking healing.”

Peter’s senses went off, not in warning, but in recognition. It wasn’t even the words, but the logo Peter could spy on the back of the hoodie. “Deadpool?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you drunk on the subway?”

Deadpool shook his head, the motion pushing the zipper of Peter’s coat into his sternum. It wasn’t completely unpleasant. “Not drunk, not really. Healing factor won’t let me get all the way drunk for more than a few minutes.”

“You hit on a stranger dressed like an elf from the North Pole and asked me if I could deliver a letter to Santa for you. Is that just… normal behavior?”

“You’re hot.”

“You’ve said.” Peter looked up as the car approached the next station and recognized his stop. “Hey, this is me. Are you going to be okay, or do you need someone to get you home?”

Deadpool raised his head up to look at Peter, curling his free hand around Peter’s waist. “Are you offering to take me home with you, baby? Because the answer is yes. Definitely yes.”

Peter was struck by the shadowed face that met his. He’d run into Deadpool a few times in the course of the last few years, but he was always in costume and masked. Peter had always thought it was strange, since Deadpool had no qualms about telling anyone and everyone that his name was Wade Winston Wilson. Peter had even heard him shout his address at a retreating mob underling once as a challenge to come and fight him. Now, he understood what the mask was for. His face as a mess of scars and open sores, the stretched skin pink and angry-looking. It was difficult to look at, and probably incredibly painful for Wade. But what struck Peter more than his skin was his eyes, a deep, mesmerizing blue that caught Peter’s own and held them hostage.

Peter took this all in in the seconds before the doors opened. “I uh… I could take you for coffee, maybe? There’s a good place down the street from here.” He edged towards the doors so as not to miss them, but found he couldn’t take his eyes off Wade’s.

“I’d follow you to a torture chamber, gorgeous. Coffee with you sounds like heaven.” Wade followed him out the doors just before they closed and the two of them made their way up to the sidewalk.

“You don’t really believe in Santa still, do you?” Peter asked as they walked towards Brewed Awakening.

“Of course I do. I’ve met him. A couple of times. Kinda why he doesn’t want to read my letters.” Wade said this like it made perfect sense, and maybe it did to him. Peter assumed he meant he’d met a few Santa actors and decided it was best not to question him further.

“So why were you wandering the subway, drunk but not drunk, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked instead, once they were settled in a corner table with two coffees and a piece of cheesecake Wade had insisted on between them.

“Nothing better to do. No jobs right now. Girlfriend broke up with me. No family to spend the holidays with. I couldn’t stay in the apartment any longer. Depression’s a bitch,” he said with a shrug. He cut a bite of the cheesecake off with a fork and held it up as if intending for Peter to eat it. Peter felt too bad for him after hearing his sad little story to object. The creamy texture was delicious.

“You don’t have any friends to spend time with?”

He forked another mouthful of cheesecake off the plate and shoved it in his mouth with a sour look at it. “They all hate me. Hard to keep friends when you keep accidentally almost getting them killed.”

“I can imagine.” Peter took a drink of his coffee, eyes still trained on Wade. He was so different slumped over a tiny table in the back of a coffee shop in plain clothes than he was suited up in the field. Peter felt sorry for him. Unfortunately, pity always made him make terrible decisions.

“Would you like to come to Christmas with me?” Wade didn’t know who he was, not really, so bringing him home was probably safe, and Aunt May had a big enough heart to welcome strangers into their tiny Christmas festivities without questioning Peter’s judgement. It wasn’t like adding a third mouth to their Christmas dinner would be much of a challenge. He’d call her when he got home.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Peter Parker,” Peter introduced himself, holding his hand out to shake. Wade eyed it for a half second before shaking.

“Wade Winston Wilson. Deadpool if you’re nasty.”

Peter wrinkled his nose at him, but didn’t hide his smile. “Please don’t introduce yourself to my aunt that way.”

Wade gave him a heated look over his mug. “Smile at me like that again, and I’ll do whatever you want me to do, baby boy.”

Peter felt an unexpected flutter in his belly. “Good to know. So, Christmas?”

Wade reached across the table to put his hand over Peter’s, big and warm and somehow comforting. “If it means I get more time with you, I’m there.”

Peter couldn’t hold back his grin. “Good.”

 

Aunt May loved Wade. And after a day spent cozy and warm together in front of a Christmas tree, Peter was starting to think he did, too.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want writing updates from me, you can follow me on Twitter [@RonsPigwidgeon](https://twitter.com/RonsPigwidgeon), Tumblr at [MsCaptainWinchester](https://mscaptainwinchester.tumblr.com/), or Pillowfort at [MsCaptainWinchester](https://www.pillowfort.io/MsCaptainWinchester).
> 
> And if you'd like to come yell about Spideypool with me, join the 18+ Discord server I co-mod, [Isn't It Bromantic](https://discord.gg/cfZEbNv)!


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